Tifa week 2018
by sanctum-c
Summary: Prompt fills for Tifa Week on Tumblr
1. Summer Nights

The first production of Summer Nights Tifa experienced was an amateur (though not amateurish) rendition on the town hall stage back in Nibelheim. Back when her Mom was still alive. Mom confided it was one of her favorite shows, certain (correctly) Tifa would enjoy the experience. More than a few aspects of the play - the implications, double-meanings and so on - flew straight over Tifa's head for years. In some ways it was shocking to look back and reflect on how much of an adult nature the production had.

But at the time she had not cared, and Mom did not seem concerned. They walked home after the applause faded, Tifa singing fractured chunks of lyrics, her mother joining in with the rest of the line when Tifa's memory faltered. One of the last happy memories Tifa had; soon after Mom received her diagnosis. Serious, but she had a chance still – Mom was firm about that, though her father seemed less certain about the outcome. Mom started treatment, but her illness overwhelmed her shockingly fast, robbing her of energy, mobility and consciousness. Until the dark day father came home, his expression sombre and informed Tifa of the tragedy.

Not something she wanted to dwell on. Nor did she wish to believe there was still nothing she could do. One of the numerous factors leading to her ill-advised scaling of Mount Nibel, her fall and subsequent coma. The missed time did little for the raw hollowness after the loss, but the passage of years eventually did. The pain and sorrow faded but it was some time before Tifa could listen to Summer Nights without the memories of Mom overwhelming her and reducing her to tears. She clung to the happy memory of Mom; the better times before.

She sang along to the songs – father got hold of a cast recording from some big production in the East and Tifa listened to it endlessly. He found her the piano score and she would use that to practice piano. She had posters, a shaky VHS copy of a filmed version recorded off of the TV, a few different cast recordings. All lost when Sephiroth came to town.

* * *

Going to a big musical production was the last thing on Tifa's mind in Midgar. Learning to live here where everything was so different; a city that never slept – and one in which monsters lurked with near impunity. Where Shinra ruled despite the nominal presentation of power held by democratically elected officials. Where the Upper plates loomed above the slums and cast them into perpetual night. She had to survive and wanted her revenge. A relief to find like-minded friends here; the starts of Avalanche operating out of the basement of her bar.

A year or two after her awakening (so many questions remained about the mechanics of her trip here. But no one willing, or perhaps able, to articulate an answer), and to her amazement Jessie hummed the title track of Summer Nights.

"Are… are you humming Summer Nights?"

Jessie glanced around at her as she helped clean off the tables. "Huh? Oh, yeah." She smiled. "One of my favorites."

"Mine too." Tifa joined in for the next few lines. "I saw it back home once. Loved it ever since."

"Been popular for years." Jessie nodded her head towards the ceiling. "Got to see it up there once." She pointed to the roof.

"Up-" Tifa blinked at her. "On the Upper Plate?"

"Oh, yeah. It's been running for years over in Sector Four up there. Back when things were a little better, my mom took me." Jessie's expression darkened. "Long while ago now."

She had to know. Had to see. The next chance she got, Tifa caught the train up to Sector Four and explored. Getting up here was pricey enough she never bothered. Sector Four; where the Upper plate denizens came for entertainment. Streets crowded with theatres covered in bright lights. So many Tifa had only glimpsed on TV or heard snatches of the music from. And there, half-way down, was a theatre showing Summer Nights. Hard to fight off the temptation, hard to not take a break from everything to go and see it done once more, recapture something like the time with her mother years before.

But the cost was absurd; a single ticket could keep Avalanche in food for a week. To waste so much money on something so frivolous- She lurked near the theatre, ears strained, listening for any stray notes from the score. The audible bits and pieces nothing like the same. She retreated to the slums and tried to put the knowledge out of her mind.

And so it might have remained until her birthday. Jessie baked a cake, Wedge and Biggs decorated the Seventh Heaven- And Marlene gave her a present; a white envelope with a card inside. Not much money to spare – and most would go to Marlene's birthdays and anything else Barret's daughter would need. Tifa thanked her and opened the card. Inside was a ticket for Summer Nights.

"Wha-" Tifa gaped at it.

"Happy Birthday!" Marlene smiled at her.

Tifa stared from the ticket to each of her friends in turn. "How did-" She broke off. "How much-"

"We pooled our money." Jessie glanced at the rest of Avalanche. "I knew how much you liked it and there was no way you would ever pay for it yourself so-" She grinned. "Happy Birthday!" The others echoed Jessie. Tifa thanked them as profusely as she could – it did not seem remotely sufficient recompense for such a gift.

The side-effects of Avalanche's generosity became clear in the week after in the run-up to the night of the show. Tifa would go alone; affording one ticket was difficult enough. She tried to back out, to offer it to Jessie instead but she and the others insisted. The food budget was severely impacted forcing bad deals in Sector Seven and beyond.

She had some idea of the cost of the ticket of course, but it was not clear until she was on the train to the Upper plate – in the best dress she owned – how much Avalanche had spent. Not in the stalls; she was up on one of the balconies. She thought about turning back several times; as soon as she left the Seventh Heaven. At the station. On the train. When she reached Sector Four. But outside the theatre she made her choice. She would love to watch Summer Nights again. But it would never be the same as the time she saw it with Mom.

Ticket touts stood on the sidewalk hawking other tickets to the show; the prices they were asking- One last look at the theatre and Tifa chimed in with her own calls. The ticket sold after an agonising thirty minutes of trying for twice what it was worth. Tifa wandered back to the station, increasingly confident she had made the right choice.


	2. Worrying About Cloud

Tifa stopped worrying about physical harm coming to Cloud pretty early on in their relationship. Their true relationship, not the vague mutual acquaintanceship they shared as children when he knew who she was, when she was only faintly aware of him: someone else who lived in Nibelheim. Not someone she classified as one of her friends.

She did not stop worrying when she asked him for the promise; he was not the first teenager in the town to ask her to meet them at the water tower before they left for the alleged bright lights of Midgar. But he was the only one who she asked the promise of. A small, but significant difference to the start.

But she never knew Cloud before, barely exchanged ten minutes of conversation as a child. Oh, it transpired they had said a handful of words when he returned in disguise before actually fulfilling his promise against the odds. By sensible reckoning their current relationship began on a dreary day in Midgar, on the platform when she found him insensible.

Cloud could recover fast; astonishingly so at times. How much was a result of mako infusions, and how much was the worrying presence of Jenova was a matter of some debate; of the three SOLDIERs Tifa had encountered none were similar. Two at least had performed feats and movements that seemed to defy reality. Who knew what the third might have done if things had gone differently?

The first action with Cloud on that day in Midgar should have been to get him somewhere warm, clean him up and start working out the puzzling factors. How seven was somehow five, and why Cloud's eyes now boasted the green glow of a SOLDIER. But he was upright, coherent and desperate to move. He had somewhere to be- Though never once did he articulate where he needed to go. He was going to walk right back out of her life after she stumbled into his; she needed time.

Sending him on the mission with Avalanche was an absurd risk. Little reason to doubt his claims of being an ex-SOLDIER given his eyes, the split-second change from his lolling head to full coherency required explanation: too much risk for such a dangerous mission like the assault on the reactor. But she had no time and no other options. She sent him to catch the train and called Barret, swearing to his skill-set. When asked what he was to her, the best she could manage was a childhood friend. Would Barret have entertained his presence with any other answer?

Nerve-wracking wait for the the team to return. The dimming of the lights and panicked news broadcasts spoke quickly to the success of the mission, but not if he and the others escaped both the blast and the combined might of the Shinra military. But they returned – alive and well. Not the point she stopped worrying for Cloud's safety though. No, that came in Wall Market. A cunning plan to infiltrate Don Corneo's mansion, to find out what the disreputable lech knew of Avalanche, made both more complex and so much simpler when the stunning girl in the red dress figured out how to sneak Cloud in with her.

Cloud had survived a fifty metre fall. Aeris was always quick to note how he had gone through both a church roof and landed on her flowerbed – both could have provided sufficient breaks in his plummet to shift the plunge form lethal to merely risky. Tifa remained unconvinced; somehow she was certain had Cloud fallen right from the plate onto the dried, packed mud of Sector Five, he would have bounced right up with nothing worse than some bruising. Cloud was physically robust.

The events that followed confirmed it; while she, Barret and Cloud had executed a panicked swing from Sector Seven into Sector Six and survived with minor injuries, he managed without a bruise. He lead the charge through a plate-glass window on a motorbike as they escaped the Shinra building. And she was willing to bet had Aeris not noticed the crane at the edge of the city, Cloud would have simply stepped off the plate and dropped out of Midgar without a second thought.

Soon it seemed nothing could slow him down. The risk of electrocution in Junon seemed a laughable idea after what Cloud had already been through; Aeris concurred there was little risk to him specifically of clambering onto the Upper Junon supports. On their trek to North Corel he wound up falling through the rail track (thankfully into water) and clambered back up unharmed. Over and over again Cloud bounced off problems and obstacles. Even when the last truths were clear and all was out in the open, it barely merited mention that he not only survived his impaling on the Masamune, he defeated Sephiroth as a result. So maybe it was neither SOLDIER nor Jenova that was responsible for his resilience.

But Cloud was a long way from impervious. Emotionally he was vulnerable, another facet of him revealed over the course of their journey. He put on a brave face, wore his heart on his sleeve and wanted to believe in everyone. Hidden beneath bravado and muddled memories of five years previous was a seventeen year old who wanted desperately to reach out to everyone around him, doubting they would ever respond in kind.

Cloud was unlikely – as far as she knew – to suffer a physical malady. Emotional distress was far more of a risk, especially when the goal that had animated and brought him so far no longer existed. She was with him, and determined to give him the emotional support he needed. No fears when he was off on deliveries of him getting injured in an accident; but feeling he was alone? A message a day was the best she could come up with when he was away from home. It seemed to work.


	3. Birthday with Friends

Tifa lingered at the doorway to the Seventh Heaven. Jessie was taking care of the bar –Biggs and Wedge ferrying orders to customers around the room. Most of Barret's attention was on his daughter not far from him, standing on a chair as she scrawled with cheap markers on scrap paper. Normally he would have spotted her long before. She had not made the trek home to change before returning to the bar, not wanting to reduce the time apart from the family she had built here – except for one stop on an assumption for later. Her friends would understand why she had come back. "Hi."

"Teef?" Barret frowned at her. "Please tell me the trains weren't running. Not today."

Tifa shook her head. "No, the trains were running."

"Show cancelled?" Marlene asked her, marker pen dropped to the table without another thought.

"No, I-" She swallowed. "It… It didn't feel right going on my own."

"You know we don't mind." Jessie leant on the bar. "We all agreed to the plan."

Tifa nodded. "I know, I know. But-" Deep breath. "I realised I wanted to spend my birthday with all of you."

Jessie was the first to smile, Biggs and Wedge mimicking her expression. "Flattered, but-" Biggs shrugged. "Kind of wish you'd told us that earlier. We could have saved money- Ow!" Wedge had tried to nudge him in the ribs.

"Don't worry about that." Tifa reached into her bag and withdrew the bundle of gil she obtained for the ticket. "I got the money back."

"That… is a lot more than I paid for the ticket." Jessie eyed the gil wonderingly.

"I did well." Tifa cleared her throat. "In any case, I was thinking of ordering in some take-out and-" She glanced at Biggs and Wedge. "You two still have that old TV and VCR?"

"Yeah?" Biggs scratched his head.

"Could I persuade you to go get it?"

"Sure?" He and Wedge shared a confused glance. "You want us to bring some tapes with us?"

"Not necessary." Tifa fished in her bag for her other purchase; a battered copy of the film version of 'Summer Nights'. Hopefully at least still watchable. "Still like the idea of seeing it, but better with my friends around."

"You want me to clear the bar?" Barret offered.

"No. The more the merrier." The regulars should be no bother. Biggs and Wedge headed out for the TV after making their orders. Anything went for tonight's meal. A few pizzas, a selection of Wutainese dishes, and a few different curries. Barret and Marlene wrote out and coloured a small sign to stick in the window proclaiming a special screening of 'Summer Nights' in the bar – and they would continue to operate as normal, despite the subdued lighting and the film playing; TV and VCR stacked on top of each other on one end of the bar.

Not the perfect way to watch the film in the slightest; despite Jessie and Bigg's insistence they would handle all the drink requests, Tifa still pitched in when they were otherwise engaged. She didn't need to look at the screen. The film was incredibly familiar and she sang along to every song without thinking. Where possible, she and the others sat in the row of chairs set near the bar, picking at the array of food.

Tonight was Barret's first time seeing the film; he made a minor effort to cover Marlene's ears and eyes from one or two risqué moments. He gave up after a while; much like Tifa when she was younger, it all went over Marlene's head. She was far more interested in mimicking the actors dancing on-screen or her own dances during other musical numbers. She grew tired long before the end of the film – and Barret torn between watching the rest of the film and getting his daughter off to bed. In the end he conceded defeat not far from the climax as Marlene dozed off in his arms.

"You can borrow the tape later if you want?" That got a grumble back from him. Tifa grinned and settled back into her chair as the climax played out. This birthday with her family was far better.


	4. They Were Roommates

The plate served as a reminder of how much under Shinra's thumb the people of the slums were. Even someone as successful as Don Corneo (through reportedly obtained via varying levels of unpleasantness) could never ignore the metal ceiling above; Shinra's implicit statement: everyone down here was beneath them – and they were not prepared to help in the slightest. Getting out of the city was complicated at the best of times; the last time Tifa saw the night sky it was marred by fire and death. Not a memory she wanted to dwell on. To see the sky again she either needed to somehow get out of the city – or move above plate. Oh she could visit for a time, but never for long. It was expensive up there.

She survived for a time in the slums on the dwindling funds her mysterious rescuer left for her. Remarkable at times how much she held – but she still could never be sure the doctors who patched her up had not subtracted from the amount before she woke. Woke up alone in this city, so far from home – or at least the remains of it.

Continued existence forced finding somewhere to stay and somewhere to work. Easier to shelter from the elements without a permanent home in Midgar, but the city could easily become bitterly cold in the winter months and stifling in the summer. As absurd as it might seem with the floating plate above, she needed a roof over her head. And for that – and certain frivolous requirements like food and soap – she needed a job.

Accommodation was the easier to procure; people within Midgar compromised frequently, subdividing living spaces intended for lower number of occupants to squeeze as many as possible into cramped apartments. The odd family somehow clinging to older money could afford to keep an actual house in the slums, but most long ago gave up any notion of aspiration. Tifa responded to an advert in one of the local stores, anxious to get out of the inn she was holed up in.

That lead her to Jessie. "So, what did you do before?" They were standing in Jessie's apartment; a cramped space intended for one – now divided by a curtain strung down the middle. Shared kitchen, bathroom, too thin walls, but otherwise more than enough for Tifa.

"Before?" Tifa crossed to the grimy window. The ever illuminated, ever noisy Sector Seven spread out below her.

"Yeah. Before you got to the city?" Jessie fidgeted. "Sorry. I mean, you don't have to answer that. Just making conversation."

Tifa shook her head. "I don't mind." She pushed the curtain back. What would be her half of the room contained a single bunk, a battered chest of drawers and a chunk of faded carpet different to the rest. "I was a guide."

"Guide?"

"Mountain trails on-" The news oddly silent on the events of Nibelheim. There was a suspicious absence of editorials on the actions of one, specific SOLDIER in a mountain town. Perhaps best not to blurt her connection. Her memories were too vivid to be wrong – no matter the official story. Jessie seemed nice enough, but there was a lot of muttering about Shinra having spies in among the populace at large. Tifa waved her hand, struggling for the words. "-on various peaks and that kind of thing."

"Cool." Jessie grinned. "Though guess you can't do that here."

"Yeah. Would need to learn my way around the city first – and I can't believe anyone'd pay me to show them." There was a certain charm to the idea. While less about optimum terrain and avoiding treacherous paths, the city's monster problem was well known. A guide could do some good here, but would anyone want to take advantage of such a service and not struggle through on their own?

Jessie let out a sigh. "Not likely. But you are going to get a job. Right?" She raised her eyebrows. "Sorry. I'm not trying to press you or anything. But if you take the room, then I just want to be sure you're going to be able to pay rent. You're the nicest person who's applied for this place in forever. Most of the rest are pretty much casing the joint when they get here. Or figuring out if they can set up a loco weed farm in here."

"Not doing either of those. And I am getting a job. And this room." Tifa grinned. "I suppose…" The ceiling was a mishmash of mottled washed out patches of mould and missing patches of paintwork. "I can cook pretty well. I could look for an opening in a restaurant."

"Hey, that would work." Jessie nodded. "There's a few places in the Sector you can try." Her eyes widened. "Hey, you know anything about drinks?"

"Drinks?"

"Yeah. You know, alcoholic drinks, cocktails and such." Jessie was growing more animated. "There's not many bars in this sector – and none of them serve food. They're mostly just dive bars. We could start our own."

"Yeah… That would work," Tifa nodded. She chuckled. "Getting ahead of things aren't we?"

"Maybe. But- I've been looking for a career change anyway." She leaned closer. "I hate my job," Jessie stage-whispered. "Sorry-" She winced. "We've literally only just met, and now I'm trying to convince you to go into business with me." She shook her head. "Forget I said anything."

"It's fine," Tifa said. "I think it could work." Another glance around the room; maybe she could check some other listings, see if anywhere was better for her budget. But ever since awakening in the city, no one she encountered was up-beat like Jessie. "When can I move in?"

Jessie grinned. "Whenever you want."


	5. Starlight

"What was it like? As a guide?" Tifa blinked and looked up from her magazine; Jessie was fussing with some electronics project on her bed. Her reticence to discuss many aspects of her past seemed to have made it more or less clear to Jessie the limits of conversation on that subject. She glanced up. "If you don't mind me asking."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, did you enjoy it, what kind of things did you do…" Jessie shrugged. "Never been hiking like that. I guess you go and look at the scenery and stuff, but…" She glanced at Tifa expectantly.

"Well. There is some of looking at the scenery." On Mount Nibel the scenery was generally of the mind to kill any foolhardy traveller who walked its paths. "A lot is knowing what trails to take." Some trails were old and now unused as erosion ground down the mountain over centuries. A few were usable - if hazardous - in certain circumstances. The main trails were more or less completely safe – as safe as the mountain ever got. There had long been discussions over implementing some kind of safe-guards over the gorges and at cliff edges.

Those had always ended in failure; some in the town remained incensed at the presence of the rope bridge and the Mako reactor tarnishing the mountain's image. This was an odd claim given images of other mountains around the world few - if any - that matched the twisted, warped peaks of Mount Nibel and the gloom that seemed to pervade it. But those voices in town meetings always won out; few people ventured onto Mount Nibel anymore. The mines were gone, travel to Rocket Town through the pass was rare. And the only people with business going up to the ancient Mako reactor were Shinra whom everyone was pretty sure could take care of it regardless. Besides, one of the numerous elderly men making up the town council said, they had Tifa as a guide should anyone need to make a trip.

Somehow the speaker had forgotten or did not care about the time she tumbled down into a gorge. The time she did not wake for a week and with only hazy memories of venturing up the mountain. Tifa had never opposed making the mountain safer, and the aesthetic argument was odd given how hard it was to spot the rope-bridge or the reactor from the town proper. But the town overruled her and the paths remained as they were.

"One of those stray from the path and you're basically dead kind of thing?" Jessie sat up. "Falls or monsters?"

"Both."

Monsters were obstacles and threats that changed with the seasons. Summer was the worst time as the dragons emerged from hibernation to bask in the feeble sunlight. They needed almost no provocation to attack anyone passing; Zangan's teachings soon came in handy. But excepting the summer months, there were many monsters skulking on the mountainside and holed up in crevices. They rarely made their way down past the rope-bridge; the effective border between town and mountain; usually safe. At least that was how it was at first. For each year Tifa worked as a guide, the monsters made their way closer and closer to the town. How bad would it have gotten if- "Gotta be a decent fighter to be a guide it turns out. Glad I got some training."

Jessie grinned. "Sounds a demanding job."

"Very." Despite the insistence from the council that few people wanted to make the trip to Rocket Town, that was what occupied most of Tifa's time – apart from maintenance and checking of the trails. The maintenance check of the Mako reactor was- "But it had some perks." Jessie wore a questioning expression. "If you were up there at night-" And it wasn't Spring when the air would be thick with Zuus. "-the stars looked amazing." The universe spread out across the horizon, the localised glow from the reactor and Nibelheim itself doing little to hide the starlight.

"Only ever seen the stars in books and TV." Jessie stared up at the ceiling. "I can't even imagine what that would have been like."

"Beautiful." Tifa smiled. "I'd like to see them again. Some day."

Two days later and Jessie was grinning a lot. "What is it?"

Jessie tried to hide her smile with her hand. "You'll see," was the same cryptic answer Tifa got every time. That grin of her roommate's only seemed to get bigger as the evening drew on and it was time for bed; Jessie oddly eager to turn in. They were definitely friends at this point, but there was a gulf of knowledge between the two of them still. Maybe Jessie would make sense at some point in the future. She was watching Tifa for some reason as she got under the covers. Strange.

Tifa clicked off the light. Something glowed above her. She rolled onto her back and gasped. A sea of faintly green stars littered the ceiling in familiar whorls and swirls of constellations. "Jessie?"

"You got me thinking the other night." The other girl was grinning in the pale, dim light. "You missed the stars, I've never seen them. Did what I could." She shrugged. "They're just cheap stick-on things, but-"

Tifa shook her head. "No. No, they're amazing. Thank you."

"Thank you for making it sound so amazing." Jessie stared up. Tifa did the same. Not the same as before. But warmer – and more than good enough for now.


	6. Winter Festival

The New Year's festival was a big event in Nibelheim for as long as Tifa could remember. Mom insisted her presence there extended to before her birth. The thought gave Tifa an odd sense of warmth at age seven. This was part of her family's life – particularly given her mother and father's roles in the celebrations. While their roles as the leaders of the town were so much less dramatic than those in the local myths, it still conferred a need to lead the event. Excitement for the occasion came in two strands. There was the fun of the event - the feast and the dancing, the celebration. The ending of one year and the beginning of the next. The other was more basic and selfish. As much as Mom – and often dad – insisted there was more to the holiday, getting presents was the part Tifa was most excited about. She shouldn't be – according to most of the adults, who waxed on and on about how much more fulfilling it was to give presents.

The town prepared nearly a full month in advance, structures now sporting lights and flourishes of decorations as the snows began to fall and the temperature plummeted. Mount Nibel remained off-limits to the youngsters. They all knew this simple fact but the adults still felt the need to reiterate the warning like every other year. One day she would climb to the top of it and see what was past the mountain - one of the effective ends of her world – and trace the winding trail leading from the gate.

Snow was irresistible; Tifa spent long hours after school charging around in the fresh layer coating the town. A few patches remained untouched; not least the gardens around the Shinra mansion. No child was willing to enter those grounds – nor did the adults seem any further encouraged. Little need of warnings for the crumbling building.

More warnings elsewhere. No more climbing up the water tower; not after one of the older kids slipped off and broke their arm. No playing after dark for similar reasons. And now there seemed to be restrictions everywhere; Tifa got warned about spending too much time out in the snow.

Tifa knew when she had had enough snow. The technical answer was never, though in purely practical terms, the answer was when her fingers and toes were numb, or it was too dark to see (though playing in fall snow as night fell and the only illumination was the streetlights and perhaps the dull glow of the moon, was a hard circumstance to pass up). Snow tended to hang around the town, but from past experience, it would be gone sooner than she would like. And why did the adults seem to hate it so much? Mom – and Dad when she prompted him – was always telling her she would catch a cold if she insisted on playing outside all the time. Mom's words would make her pause, but one or other of her friends would come to the door and, well, there was snow to play in.

The day before New Year's Eve, Tifa had gone to bed with a persistent sniffle – her Dad telling her at irregular intervals to blow her nose. Not helpful, and Mom tucked her into bed, but she could not sleep after. A long and restless night later (the snow started falling again at some point and Tifa snuck from her bed to peer out the window and watch the flakes drift down into the plaza, briefly coloured by proximity to other lights), and Tifa wheezed with each breath. Her nose streamed, her head spun when she crawled out of bed, every movement a chore.

She only made it as far as downstairs before Mom harried her right back up again and into bed. "What about the festival?" Mom cracked open the medicine.

"We'll see." The grim tone in her voice usually meant no. Any chance not this time?

"But, I have to go." Tifa swallowed the medicine, the sweetened goo oddly painful as she swallowed it. At least it tasted nice. "Don't you have to?"

"Dad can cope on his own."

"But…" Tifa squirmed. "You were going to lead this year." Leading – from what Tifa picked up – meant reciting long passages from books, telling people which songs to sing and lighting fires. "I thought you wanted to."

Mom shook her head. "I can't go do that while you're ill."

"I'll be okay?" Tifa tried. She was seven. She knew how to use the microwave and under no circumstances should she answer the door to anyone she didn't know.

"I'm sure you would, but I don't mind." Mom smiled at her. She pressed her palm against Tifa's forehead and frowned. "Still a bit warm. I need to do some chores. Can you try and sleep for a bit?"

"Can't I read?" The pile of books by her bed would be a decent way to pass the time stuck indoors.

"Give sleeping a try first." Mom stood up. "Might make you feel better and then you can go out to the festival."

Definitely encouraging. Tifa burrowed under the covers; Mom switched off the light and headed downstairs. Sleeping during the day was not easy. The sounds of people in the streets were audible through the closed window. The bustling of adults and the excited shouting of her friends. Tifa almost went for the door when someone banged on it. Mom's voice murmured in response to a question Tifa could not hear; the door closed. No footsteps on the stairs; if the caller was one of her friends, Mom had passed on the bad news about her.

An eternity after trying, Tifa picked up her book and clicked on her bedside lamp. She was not getting to sleep like this and read until Mom came with a bowl of soup around lunchtime. A brief try to hide the book, click off the light and get back under the covers earned her a stern look from Mom, but she sat on the bed and shared the bowl of soup with Tifa. Mom pressed her hand to Tifa's forehead again and again encouraged her to sleep when she took the bowl away.

Tifa tried again, sleep continuing to evade her. She squirmed around again, lying on first one side and rolling over to the other. She could keep on reading. No. Tifa screwed her eyes tight closed and remained lying on her pillow. Mom shook her awake; she had not heard her coming up the stairs- The windows dark and the room was gloomy, her lamp the only source of light. "Hi." Mom's voice was soft. "How are you feeling?" Tifa sat up groggily. Tired in a way she had not been before, limbs stiff and the world too warm. She kicked at the blanket.

"Too hot."

Mom touched her forehead again. "Still not right." She sighed.

"But I won't get cold outside!" Tifa protested. Too much finality in Mom's posture and words. Tifa was not going to go to the festival.

"Maybe. But that's risky too; you won't know if you're getting a worse cold."

Not much Tifa could say to that. "You can still go."

Mom smiled. "I'll let Dad do that." She glanced to the window. "But we can watch at least."

"We?" Tifa blinked. "Watch?"

"I think we can see some of it from here. And if bundle you up warmly we might be able to open the window." Mom was nodding. "Do you feel hungry?"

"A little, I guess?"

"I'll get us some snacks. Sorry it's not the same. Or maybe we could have our own mini-festival?"

"Both?" A new hopeful spark flourished in Tifa. "A new tradition maybe?"

Mom grinned. "Okay. I'll get one of the song sheets and-" She gestured with her hands. "-some candles."

"You can lead this one. And I'll do next year," Tifa offered.

"Okay." Tifa sat up as Mom went back downstairs. Better to have been with everyone else, but at least she would not miss out. Neither would Mom.


End file.
